...  • 


/Iftemorial 


n&-y^-)«       _^ 

/I  f      r  „ 

c/ 


Leonora  , 


..WIFE   OF.. 


The 

Desplaines  Press 
P.  P.  Ptttibone  <&•  Co., 
Chicago, 


%eonora  flfo,  Ibo^ne, 


A  year  or  more  before  her  death,  at  the  urgent  re- 
quest of  her  children,  Mrs.  Hoyne  undertook  the  task 
of  writing  a  sketch  of  her  life.  She  had  often  told,  in 
her  charming  manner,  so  many  interesting  incidents  of 
her  early  life,  and  especially  of  her  experiences  as  a 
pioneer  in  Chicago,  that  her  children  were  anxious  that 
these  stories  should  be  preserved,  if  possible,  in  her 
own  language. 

At  the  time  she  consented  to  undertake  this  labor  she 
was  apparently  in  good  health.  She  was  happy  in  her 
family,  surrounded  by  her  children,  busy  with  her 
household  cares,  but  interested  in  the  world  about  her. 
Life  had  not  lost  its  brightness.  Her  mind  was  clear 
and  active,  and  her  prospects  of  a  happy  old  age  seemed 
to  be  good.  With  her  cheerful  disposition  she  looked 
always  upon  the  bright  side  of  life.  She  found  happi- 
ness in  her  surroundings,  and  pleasure  in  contributing 
to  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  others. 

But  alas  for  the  uncertainty  of  life.  Even  her 
strength  tended  to  shorten  her  career;  for,  ever  accus- 

3 


tomed  to  an  active  life,  and  undoubtedly  relying  too 
much  upon  her  powers  of  endurance,  she  overtaxed  her 
physical  strength,  and  when  her  disease  came  her  power 
to  resist  the  exhausting  strain  upon  her  system  failed, 
and  she  died  after  an  illness  of  but  a  few  weeks. 

It  has  been  a  source  of  deep  regret  to  her  children 
that  they  had  not  earlier  urged  upon  her  the  prepara- 
tion of  this  sketch,  or  been  able  in  some  way  to  push 
it  more  rapidly  to  its  conclusion,  but  it  is,  at  least, 
some  consolation  to  them  that  the  work  was  begun 
and  some  progress  made  in  it.  From  time  to  time,  in 
her  leisure  moments,  which,  in  her  busy  life  were  few, 
she  noted  some  of  the  events  of  her  earlier  life. 
Anticipating  no  necessity  for  haste,  she  made  none, 
and  although  they  realize  that  what  she  has  written 
is  incomplete,  and  but  a  taste  of  her  interesting 
experiences,  her  children  feel  that  even  this  fragment, 
coming  from  her  hand,  is  a  precious  relic  which 
should  be  preserved.  She  had  intended  to  rewrite, 
correct  and  elaborate,  but  the  opportunity  for  so  doing 
having  been  denied  her,  the  outline,  as  it  is,  will  ever 
prove  a  source  of  pleasure  to  her  children,  her  grand- 
children and  her  old  friends;  and  for  them  let  it  be 
carefully  kept. 


Bs  written  bg  flfcrs.  Ibogne,  tbts  sfcetcb  is  as  follows: 

OMace  of  Bfrtb. 


"I  was  born  on  the  24th  day  of  January,  1825,  on 
my  father's  plantation,  '  Garland  Hill,'  in  Hanover 
county,  Virginia.  The  day  was  memorable  for  one  of 
the  worst  snow-storms  ever  known  in  that  section  of 
the  country.  I  was  not  aware  of  the  fact  at  the  time, 
but  have  heard  it  frequently  spoken  of,  and  have  not 
liked  the  '  beautiful  snow '  since. 

"  My  father,  John  Taylor  Temple,  was  of  English 
descent.  He  was  the  son  of  John  Temple  and  grand- 
son of  Samuel  Temple.  My  grandmother  on  my 
father's  side  was  Alice  Taylor,  and  my  great-grand- 
mother was  a  Meaux.  They  were  all  of  English 
descent,  and  I  am  proud  of  my  ancestors  and  that  the 
blue  blood  of  the  old  English  nobility  runs  through 
my  veins. 

"  My  grandfather  on  my  mother's  side  was  Rev. 
William  Staughton.  He  was  born  in  County  War- 
wickshire, England,  January  4,  1770.  He  published 
a  volume  of  juvenile  poems  in  his  seventeenth  year. 


In  1788  he  entered  the  Bristol  Baptist  Seminary  to 
study  for  the  ministry.  In  1793  he  went  to  South 
Carolina  and  preached  at  Georgetown  for  seventeen 
months.  In  1795  he  removed  to  New  York,  and  in 
1797  took  charge  of  an  academy  at  Bordentown,  N.  J., 
and  was  ordained  there.  In  1805  he  became  pastor  of 
the  First  Baptist  Church  of  Philadelphia,  which,  dur- 
ing his  pastorate,  increased  in  membership  so  greatly 
that  the  edifice  was  enlarged  several  times,  and  three 
churches  were  formed  from  it.  Dr.  Staughton  identi- 
fied himself  with  the  Third,  the  Sansom  Street  Church, 
preaching  every  Sunday  three  or  four  times  to  audi- 
ences of  several  thousand,  arid  also  two  or  three  times 
during  the  week.  I  think  the  people  of  that  day 
were  better  Christians  than  we  of  the  present  time, 
who  think  one  sermon  in  the  morning  enough  for  us. 
Perhaps  we  have  not  the  amount  of  brains  our  ances- 
tors possessed. 

"  In  1823  Dr.  Staughton  became  president  of  Col- 
umbia College,  at  Washington,  D.  C.,  which  position 
he  resigned  in  1827,  in  consequence  of  embarrass- 
ments of  the  institution  which  his  utmost  efforts  were 
unable  to  remove.  He  returned  to  Philadelphia,  and 
shortly  afterwards  was  chosen  president  of  the  Baptist 
college  and  theological  institute  at  Georgetown,  Ky. 
On  his  way  to  the  latter  place  he  stopped  in  Washing- 

6 


ton,  and  died  there  December  12,  1829.  His  last 
words  were,  'I  shall  be  satisfied  when  I  awake  in  thy 
likeness.' 

"  I  well  remember  the  night  my  father  was  called 
up  to  attend  him.  My  poor  mother  could  not  go  to 
him,  as  one  of  my  sisters  was  ill  with  the  croup,  and 
she  walked  the  floor  until  my  father  returned.  Alas ! 
his  spirit  had  taken  its  flight. 


Cbilfcboofc. 


"  Recollections  of  my  early  childhood  are  rather 
indistinct,  but  there  are  a  few  things  that  are  clear. 

"Ours  was  a  typical  southern  home.  The  house, 
a  large  two-story,  was  square,  a  wide  hall  running 
through  from  front  to  rear  on  each  floor,  with  rooms 
on  both  sides.  Down  stairs  were  dining  and  smoking 
rooms  on  one  side;  on  the  opposite,  drawing-room, 
sitting  and  other  rooms,  which  I  do  not  remember. 
On  the  upper  floor  there  were  bed-chambers  on  both 
sides  of  the  hall.  The  greater  part  of  our  time  was 
spent  in  the  hall,  where  comfortable  chairs  and  lounges 
invited  one  to  be  lazy  and  take  the  world  comfortably, 
and  where  one  could  always  find  a  cool  air.  A  broad 
veranda  on  the  upper  and  lower  floors  extended  around 
three  sides  of  the  house.  I  have  a  distinct  recollec- 
tion of  the  dining  room,  with  the  high-back  chairs 
and  massive  mahogany  table.  I  used  to  watch  the 
butler  wax  and  polish  this  table  until  it  shown  as 
bright  as  a  mirror.  There  was  the  side-board  with  a 
glass  of  wine  and  a  biscuit  always  ready  for  the  hun- 
gry or  thirsty.  My  mother's  room  was  large  and  airy. 

9 


I  do  not  remember  the  furniture,  excepting  the  bed- 
stead— a  beautiful  carved  mahogany — four  posts,  and 
so  high  we  were  obliged  to  mount  two  carpeted  steps, 
that  always  stood  at  its  side,  to  get  upon  it.  The  bed 
was  of  feathers  and  was  almost  mountain  high. 

"  The  old-fashioned  houses  were  heated  by  wood 
fires  in  large  fire-places — a  great  back-log  always 
burning — but  they  were  not  very  warm,  and  at  night 
the  beds  were  cold.  The  warming-pan  was  used  to 
warm  our  beds.  It  was  a  pan  a  little  larger  than  a 
good  sized  frying-pan,  with  a  cover  fitting  closely  over 
the  top.  It  was  made  of  copper  with  a  long  handle 
attached.  The  coals  of  fire  were  put  into  the  pan,  the 
lid  closed,  and  then  the  darkey  maiden  raised  the  bed- 
clothes and  slowly  moved  the  pan  up  and  down  until 
every  part  of  the  bed  was  warm. 

"The  servants'  quarters  were  some  distance  from 
the  house.  The  kitchen  was  quite  near,  and  I  used  to 
run  there  and  hide  from  my  nurse.  Aunt  Esther,  the 
cook,  would  put  me  in  a  large  hominy  mortar  and 
throw  something  over  it.  When  found,  shouts  of 
laughter  pealed  forth  from  dear  old  aunty's  lips,  and 
aunty  and  baby  Nora  had  rare  sport. 

"  Gracie,  my  nurse,  had  a  fine  voice,  and  often 
sang  to  me  a  little  ditty  my  grandfather  Staughton 
wrote.  It  was  her  favorite.  It  ran  thus: 

10 


" «  Pretty  little  Nora,  fresh  and  fair, 
Sky-blue  eyes  and  curly  hair, 
Rosy  cheeks  and  dimple  chin; 
Pretty  little  Nora's  heart  is  bounding.' 

"  When  mother  went  to  church  in  the  winter  time 
she  carried  a  foot-stove  in  the  carriage  to  keep  her 
warm.  This  was  a  box  made  of  perforated  tin,  except 
the  bottom.  It  had  a  receptacle  for  live  coals,  and  a 
wire  handle  by  which  to  carry  it.  In  the  summer 
time,  when  the  weather  was  pleasant,  my  parents  staid 
for  the  second  service.  When  they  did  so,  a  large 
hamper  packed  with  edibles  was  strapped  to  the  back 
of  the  carriage,  and  after  service  the  footman  spread 
the  cloth  on  the  grass  under  the  trees  and  waited  on 
us.  I  used  to  think  it  a  great  treat  when  I  could  go 
with  my  parents  on  these  occasions. 

"Two  years  after  my  birth,  my  sister,  Virginia, 
came  to  us.  She  was  a  welcome  little  visitor,  and  we 
were  glad  to  keep  her,  and  loved  her  dearly. 

"  My  father  was  fond  of  hunting.  He  had  a  fine 
pack  of  hounds  and  several  hunters.  Hunting  was 
the  favorite  amusement. 


11 


"  My  father,  being  a  slaveholder,  decided  to  Bell  the 
old  plantation,  as  he  did  not  wish  to  bring  up  his 
children  in  a  slave  state.  The  plantation  was  sold  to 
a  relative.  He  freed  some  of  his  slaves  and  took  four 
to  Washington  with  him.  One  of  them,  old  Aunt 
Oney,  who  used  to  be  cook,  was  eighty  years  old,  and 
father  took  the  best  of  care  of  her  while  she  lived. 
She  was  subject  to  the  nightmare,  and  in  the  morning 
when  she  came  down  to  breakfast,  and  father  would 
say,  '  Well,  Aunt  Oney,  how  are  you  this  morning  ? ' 
she  would  answer,  'Ob,  Massa  John,  the  old  hag  been 
riding  me  all  night.'  She  died  peacefully  and  was 
buried  in  Washington. 

"We  lived  in  Washington  during  Van  Buren's  ad- 
ministration. 

"  My  mother  was  a  beautiful  woman — tall  and 
stately,  with  a  fine  figure.  She  had  the  pure  lily  and 
rose  complexion  of  her  ancestors,  and  one  could  almost 
see  the  blood  coursing  through  the  veins,  the  tissue 
was  so  delicate.  Her  eyes  were  a  deep  blue  and  her 

13 


hair  dark  brown.  I  remember  her  distinctly  as  she 
was  attired  one  evening  for  one  of  the  President's 
levees  :  Her  robe  was  of  rich  silk,  en-train,  waist 
decollette;  on  her  head  a  turban  of  some  light  gauze 
material  and  two  beautiful  ostrich  plumes  which  fell 
gracefully  almost  to  her  shoulders.  Truly  she  was  a 
queen  of  beauty! 

"  The  turbans  worn  in  evening  costumes  were  not 
at  all  like  those  of  the  present  day,  but  wonderful 
creations  of  beauty,  so  light  and  airy  that  it  seemed  as 
if  a  breath  would  blow  them  away.  I  think  her  jewels 
were  pearls." 


14 


Grip  to  tbe  West 


"  My  father  left  Washington  in  1833  and  came 
west  to  Chicago.  My  mother  and  family  visited  my 
aunt,  Mrs.  Wythe,  in  Philadelphia.  While  there,  my 
nurse,  a  mulatto  girl,  was  stolen  from  us  by  abolition- 
ists, and  shut  up.  My  mother  was  almost  crazy  about 
the  poor  girl.  She  thought  she  had  been  murdered. 
After  several  days  had  passed,  one  of  the  abolitionists 
came  around  with  her,  and  said  she  should  not  go  as  a 
slave.  After  much  fuss  and  feathers  she  was  bound 
to  mother.  The  poor  girl  was  sick  afterwards.  She 
was  afraid  she  was  going  to  be  taken  away  from  mother, 
of  whom  she  was  very  fond. 

"  After  our  visit  in  Philadelphia  we  went  to  Cin- 
cinnati to  visit  my  mother's  sister,  Mrs.  Lynd.  Her 
husband  was  Rev.  Samuel  Lynd,  a  Baptist  minister, 
who  was  then  pastor  of  a  large  church  in  that  city,  and 
beloved  by  his  people. 

"  Mrs.  Lynd  was  a  saint  upon  earth,  and  has  gone 
home  to  reap  her  reward  in  the  city  of  the  blest. 

"  We  left  Cincinnati  and  the  dear  ones  there  and 
went  to  Niles,  Michigan,  where  my  dear  father  met  us. 

15 


He  had  made  all  arrangements  for  our  journey  to  Chi- 
cago. He  had  hired  a  man  who  owned  a  fine  team  of 
horses  and  a  new  wagon  to  take  us  through  to  Chi- 
cago, he  riding  in  a  buggy  with  a  gentleman.  Father 
had  stocked  the  wagon  with  boxes  of  provisions; 
enough  to  last  us  through.  The  journey  was  unevent- 
ful. We  feared  the  Indians,  but  were  fortunate 
enough  not  to  encounter  them.  We  camped  two  nights, 
the  men  sleeping  on  the  ground  before  the  camp-fire, 
which  they  kept  burning  all  night;  mother,  the  chil- 
dren and  the  nurse  occuping  the  wagon.  Poor 
mother  did  not  sleep  but  kept  watch.  They  were  fear- 
ful nights  for  her.  The  wolves  were  howling  around 
us,  and  but  for  the  big  fire  would  have  come  nearer. 
"The  drive  on  the  border  of  beautiful  Lake  Michigan 
was  delightful.  The  wheeling  was  heavy,  and  a  good 
part  of  the  way  we  were  riding  in  the  water,  as  the  wet 
sand  was  not  as  heavy.  We  arrived  at  Mau's,  a  half- 
breed,  who  had  a  log  hut  about  where  Calumet  is.  He 
gave  us  something  warm  to  eat  and  drink ;  what  it  was 
I  do  not  know.  After  feeding  the  horses  the  driver 
called:  '  All  ready,'  and  we  embarked  in  our  Hoosier 
'  schooner,'  as  the  wagon  was  called,  and  were  again  on 
our  journey  to  the  '  Garden  City  of  the  West.'  And 
it  was  truly  a  garden.  Flowers  of  every  description 
were  blooming  on  the  beautiful  prairies.  But  I  digress 

16 


— we  arrived  in  the  evening  and  went  to  old  Wattle's 
Tavern,  which  was  on  the  point  where  the  North  and 
South  branches  diverge  from  the  main  river,  but  it 
was  not  then  as  it  is  now.  There  was  a  small  foot- 
bridge to  cross,  and  we  were  soon  at  the  door.  The 
tavern  was  a  long,  two-story  shanty,  without  plaster 
or  paint.  The  first  floor  had  a  long  dining  room,  bar- 
room and  a  kitchen.  The  upper  floor  was  a  long  room 
with  rows  of  beds  so  close  together  that  there  was 
barely  room  for  a  chair  between.  On  entering  that 
delightful  apartment,  my  father  said  quietly — for  he 
was  always  cool — '  I  cannot  put  my  family  in  such 
quarters  as  these.  Have  you  no  place  where  we  can  be 
alone?'  After  a  long  talk  in  which  my  father  insisted 
upon  having  a  private  room,  the  old  man  said  :  "  My 
family  live  in  the  log  house  at  the  end  of  the  building, 
and  if  you  will  pay  me  well  you  can  have  that.'  Father 
agreed  to  do  so,  and  we  were  soon  settled  in  the 
old  log  hut,  and  glad  to  have  a  place  to  lay  our 
weary  heads. 

"The  hut  was  like  most  of  them.  The  logs  were 
chinked  with  mud,  and  one  could  see  the  daylight 
through,  or  lie  in  bed  and  see  the  stars  above  twink- 
ling in  the  sky. 

"  It  was  hard  for  my  mother,  who  had  lived  in 
luxury,  to  be  brought  to  such  accommodations,  but 

17 


she  was  brave,  and  dear  father's  health  was  the  first 
consideration  with  her. 

"  The  Indians  were  about  us  in  numbers,  and  my 
poor  mother  was  in  mortal  fear  of  them,  but  never  hes- 
itated to  do  them  a  kindness  when  she  could. 

"  Old  Wattles  had  a  well  of  fine  water  on  his  place, 
which  he  would  not  allow  anyone  to  draw  from  except 
those  in  the  tavern.  He  kept  the  pump  locked.  One 
day  my  mother  saw  a  beautiful  squaw,  as  graceful  as 
&  swan,  coming  towards  the  shanty.  She  carried  a 
small  pail  in  her  hand,  and  went  to  the  Wattles  to  ask 
for  a  little  water  for  her  husband  who  was  ill  with  a 
fever  and  could  not  drink  the  river  water.  In  a  few 
minutes  she  came  back,  her  pail  still  empty.  Mother 
called  her  in  and  by  signs  found  out  the  trouble.  She 
was  soon  made  happy,  as  mother  filled  her  pail  for  her, 
and  daily  she  came  to  our  hut  for  a  drop  of  water, 
which  we  always  had  ready  for  her.  My  mother 
became  very  fond  of  her,  and  named  her  '  Onkenesta.' 
One  morning  when  she  came  mother  washed  the  paint 
from  her  face,  arranged  her  hair  a-la-Grecque,then  gave 
her  a  hand-mirror  to  see  herself.  She  smiled  but  said 
nothing.  She  was  a  beauty,  and  a  model  any  artist 
would  have  delighted  to  copy.  On  the  morrow,  when 
she  came  again,  the  ugly  Indian  paint  was  on  her  face 
and  she  was  content. 

18 


"  When  the  Indians  pulled  up  their  tent  poles  and 
departed,  Onkenesta  disappeared,  but  mother  did  not 
forget  her.  She  often  spoke  of  the  beautiful  dusky 
woman. 

"  We  did  not  remain  long  at  the  Wattles  tavern. 
Father  chartered  a  vessel  and  sent  to  Green  Bay  for 
lumber,  and  before  the  summer  was  over  we  had  a 
nice  little  home  of  our  own.  It  was  a  story  and  a 
half  high  and  there  were  five  rooms.  The  front  room 
on  the  first  floor  my  father  used  for  his  office;  the 
second  room  we  used  for  a  dining  room  and  also  for 
a  sitting  room ;  the  kitchen  was  back  of  that.  There 
were  two  bed-rooms  up  stairs. 

"  My  father  had  drugs  on  shelves.  I  had  forgot- 
ten to  say  that  he  studied  medicine  in  Philadelphia. 
Trouble  arose  in  the  college  there  and  the  professors 
advised  him  to  go  to  Baltimore  to  pass  his  examina- 
tions, and  his  diploma  was  given  him  by  the  college 
there. 

"  The  Indians  annoyed  father  very  much,  insisting 
that  the  drugs  were  whisky.  One  morning  three 
braves  came  in,  asking  for  whisky.  Father  told 
them  he  had  none,  and  they  still  insisting,  he  quietly 
took  down  the  ammonia  bottle  and  handed  it  to 
one  of  them,  who  opened  the  bottle,  smelt  of  it  and 
handed  it  to  the  next,  and  so  on  to  the  third.  The 

19 


three  then  walked  out  without  a  word.  That  was 
Indian  stoicism. 

"Our  furniture  came  from  Buffalo  by  boat.  The 
vessels  arrived  sometimes  once  a  month,  sometimes  at 
longer  intervals.  The  goods  were  carried  across  the 
bar  and  in  barges  up  the  river. 

"  The  piano  was  a  curiosity.  One  day  while  I  was 
practicing,  a  six-foot  Indian  walked  in.  I  arose 
from  the  stool,  but  in  a  moment  was  down  again,  as 
he  laid  his  hands  upon  my  shoulders  and  sat  me  down 
upon  the  stool.  He  motioned  me  to  go  on.  I  did  so. 
After  playing  until  my  fingers  ached — the  time  seemed 
ages  long — he  let  me  stop,  and,  going  to  my  mother, 
offered  her  cranberries  without  number  if  she  would 
sell  me  to  him.  He  spoke  a  little  English.  He  said 
he  heard  a  piano  at  the  mission  at  the  Sault  St.  Mary. 
While  he  was  talking  our  man-servant  came  in,  took 
him  by  the  shoulders  and  pushed  him  out  of  doors. 
Another  time,  while  mother  and  I  were  sitting  at  the 
dinner  table  alone,  a  towering  shadow  darkened  the 
door.  We  looked  around  and  an  Indian  walked  in, 
came  up  to  the  table,  took  up  the  dish  of  meat  and 
walked  out.  He  sat  down  on  a  log  near  the  kitchen 
door,  ate  the  meat,  brought  the  dish  back  and  left  as 
quietly  as  he  came. 

"  While  we  were  living  in  the  cottage  the  great 


Indian  war  dance  took  place.  Judge  Caton  gave  a 
graphic  description  of  it  in  one  of  his  interesting  lec- 
tures. Poor  mother  was  almost  crazed  with  fear.  She 
laid  down  on  the  bed  and  covered  her  head  with  a 
pillow  to  shut  out  the  fiendish  yells  of  the  red  devils 
who  were  dancing  before  our  door,  brandishing  their 
tomahawks  and  knives,  firing  pistols  and  making  the 
air  ring  with  their  horrid  noise.  There  were  nearly  a 
thousand  warriors  naked,  excepting  the  breech-cloth 
about  their  loins,  and  in  all  their  war  paint,  which 
made  them  still  more  hideous.  I  stood  on  a  chair  at 
the  window  and  peeped  through  the  shutters  to  see  the 
fiends.  And  I  can  assure  you  they  were  more  like  an 
army  of  devils  than  anything  one  can  imagine.  The 
picture  was  indelibly  fixed  in  my  mind,  and  as  I  write 
is  vividly  before  me.  I  think  if  I  were  an  artist  I 
could  put  it  on  canvas  as  it  appeared  to  me  on  that  day. 
"  This  blood-curdling  dance  took  place  after  one  of 
the  government  payments.  The  Indians  were  dissat- 
isfied. They  thought  they  had  been  cheated,  which 
was  undoubtedly  true,  and  as  they  danced  before  their 
doors  threatened  to  kill  all  the  white  inhabitants 
unless  they  made  them  presents.  My  mother  sent  the 
man  out  to  buy  paint  and  tobacco,  which  he  distributed 
among  them,  and  they  went  on  to  the  next  house. 
The  women  and  children  were  sent  to  the  fort  for  the 
night.  21 


"  The  fort  at  that  time  was  a  picket  enclosure  with 
a  block-house  inside  the  enclosure,  having  apertures 
for  lookouts  on  three  sides.  It  remained  at  the  foot 
of  Michigan  avenue  and  Water  street  until  the  widen- 
ing of  the  river.  A  representation  of  it  can  be  seen 
at  that  corner,  a  tablet  having  been  placed  on  the 
building  standing  there.  Major  Wilcox  and  Captain 
Baley  were  then  in  command.  Dr.  Maxwell,  a  genial 
gentleman,  was  post  surgeon.  His  daughter  and  I 
were  good  friends,  as  were  also  the  daughters  of 
Major  Wilcox.  I  spent  many  pleasant  hours  during 
my  childhood  in  old  Fort  Dearborn.  I  now  have  the 
dial-post  which  stood  in  the  center  of  the  parade 
ground.  My  husband  bought  it  at  the  time  the  fort 
was  torn  down,  and  placed  it  in  our  yard,  at  our  home 
267  Michigan  avenue,  where  it  remained  for  many 
years.  A  few  years  since,  noticing  that  it  was  begin- 
ning to  show  signs  of  decay  from  the  effects  of  the 
weather,  I  had  it  removed  and  placed  as  a  pedestal  in 
the  front  hall  of  our  home,  where  the  precious  relic 
now  stands,  a  constant  reminder  of  the  scenes  of  my 
childhood. 

"  John  C.  Hogan,  a  trader,  had  for  the  time  and 
place,  a  large  store  near  our  home  on  Water  street, 
between  what  are  now  Franklin  and  Market  streets. 
In  this  store  was  the  first  '  Post  Office,'  Mr.  Hogan 

22 


being  the  postmaster.  It  was  not  large  nor  elegant. 
Its  walls  were  of  leather.  It  was  an  old  boot-leg  tacked 
to  one  of  the  posts  in  the  store.  The  mail  was  put 
into  this  receptacle,  and  each  person  helped  himself  to 
his  own  mail. 

"  Mr.  P.  F.  W.  Peck  had  a  store  on  the  corner  of  La 
Salle  and  Water  streets.  He  had  a  stock  of  goods  of 
all  descriptions,  but  principally  for  the  Indian  trade, 
as  that  paid  best,  the  white  inhabitants  being  so  few  in 
number.  I  think  in  1834  he  gave  up  his  store  and 
bought  land,  which  in  those  days  was  cheap.  His 
judgment  was  good.  He  bought  wisely  and  was  able 
to  hold  what  he  bought.  A  few  years  later  he  married 
Mary  K.  Wythe,  a  niece  of  Dr.  William  Staughton  and 
cousin  of  my  mother,  Elizabeth  A.  Temple.  She  and 
her  mother,  Mrs.  Kezia  Wythe,  came  West,  I  think 
in  1835. 

"  In  1834  my  father  built  a  fine  house  on  Lake 
street  near  the  corner  of  Franklin  street,  and  we  felt 
like  princes  when  we  moved  from  the  cottage  to  our 
new  home.  This  house  was  a  frame  of  two  stories  and 
an  attic.  There  were  four  rooms  and  a  hall  on  the 
first  floor,  the  hall  running  the  length  of  the  house  to  a 
back  porch,  at  the  end  of  which  a  door  opened  into  a 
woodhouse,  and  the  well  was  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  that 
led  down  to  the  garden.  The  upper  floor  had  four  bed- 

23 


chambers,  a  hall  and  stairs  leading  to  the  attic,  which 
was  a  half  story  and  was  occupied  by  the  servants  as 
sleeping  rooms.  The  well  was  an  expensive  part  of  our 
premises.  My  father  took  extra  care  when  it  was 
bored,  and  the  work  was  continued  until  the  water 
was  as  clear  as  crystal  and  as  cold  as  ice.  My  brothers, 
John  H.  Temple  and  Sfcaughton  Temple  and  my  sister, 
Josephine  Ellen,  were  born  in  that  house.  There  my 
father  brought  Allen  B.  Freeman  and  his  wife  when  they 
came  to  Chicago,  and  later  on,  Mr.  Hinton,  his  wife, 
six  children  and  nurse.  They  were  with  us  six  weeks. 
During  that  time-  my  brother  Howard  was  born.  My 
mother  used  to  say  my  father  kept  a  Baptist  hotel. 


"  The  first  school  I  attended  was  kept  by  Miss 
Eliza  Chappel  in  the  summer  of  1833  in  a  little  log 
house  that  had  been  used  as  a  store  by  John  Wright. 
The  front  room  was  the  school  room.  The  back  room 
was  Miss  Chappel 's  living  room.  She  was  a  kind  and 
gentle  teacher  and  we  were  very  fond  of  her.  She 
taught  in  the  little  log  house  until  January,  1834, 
when  she  went  to  the  Temple  Building,  which  my 
father  erected,  or  largely  paid  for,  and  which  stood  on 
his  ground  at  the  corner  of  Franklin  and  South  Water 
streets.  It  was  a  long  two-story  building.  The  upper 
story  was  used  as  a  school  room,  and  the  lower  as 
a  church,  where  Baptists,  Presbyterians  and  Metho- 
dists worshiped  the  same  God  and  lived  in  good  fel- 
lowship together  until  each  denomination  was  able  to 
erect  a  church  of  its  own.  Miss  Chappel  resigned 
the  position  in  the  autumn  of  1834,  returned  to  the 
East  and  was  married  to  the  Rev.  Jeremiah  Porter  in 
June,  1835. 

"  Granville  S.  Sproat  was  the  first  public  school 
teacher.  He  was  a  Bostonian.  The  scholars  were 

25 


fond  of  him  and  he  was  a  child  with  us.  Out  of  doors 
he  wore  a  long  Boston  wrapper,  something  like  the 
ulsters  of  the  present  day.  At  the  recess  hour  in  the  win- 
ter he  used  to  go  with  us  on  the  river,  which  was  frozen 
and  as  smooth  as  glass,  to  slide.  There  would  be  two 
or  three  girls  sitting  on  their  feet  hanging  on  to  the 
tails  of  his  coat,  he  dragging  us  along  amid  shouts  of 
laughter.  The  poor  man  did  not  like  the  West.  It 
was  too  wild  for  him,  and  he  returned  shortly  after 
to  the  '  Hub.'  The  Inter  Ocean  of  October  9th,  1892, 
gives  the  names  of  the  pupils  at  that  time  in  the  school 
taught  by  Mr.  Sproat  and  Miss  Chappel.  My  name  is 
not  there,  but  it  should  have  been,  as  I  was  one  of  that 
class.  Celia  Maxwell,  Captain  Baley's  children,  and 
the  Brooks  children  were  all  my  friends,  and  we  spent 
many  pleasant  days  together.  I  think  Bessie  Hamil- 
ton was  in  our  class  also. 

The  second  school  was  presided  over  by  Miss  Wil- 
lard.  It  was  a  school  for  young  ladies  only.  Among 
the  pupils  were  Lucy  Smith,  daughter  of  Theophilus 
Smith ;  Emily  Handy,  daughter  of  Major  Handy ;  Eliza 
Wright,  sister  of  John  Wright.  I  have  forgotten  the 
names  of  the  other  girls. 

The  third  school  was  Isaac  T.  Hinton's,  the  second 
Baptist  minister,  who  came  to  Chicago.  He  taught  in 
the  old  shanty  the  Baptists  built  on  La  Salle  street, 

26 


near  the  corner  of  Washington,  where  several  years  after 
they  erected  a  more  commodious  and  elegant  building. 
The  pupils  were  Elizabeth  Butterfield,  daughter  of 
Justin  Butterfield,  one  of  the  most  noted  jurists  of  his 
time,  (he  became  a  great  friend  of  my  father,  who 
admired  him  for  his  talent) ;  Mary  Jefferson,  the  Misses 
Fowler,  and  Miss  Steele,  who  is  still  living  and  has  a 
lovely  home  in  Waukegan;  [she  married  a  gentleman 
of  the  same  name,  but  not  related  to  her] ;  Miss 
Withers,  from  the  southern  part  of  the  State,  my  sister 
Virginia  and  myself.  There  were  others,  but  I  do  not 
remember  their  names. 

"  Mr.  Hinton  opened  a  boarding  school  to  increase 
his  income,  as  his  salary  was  small  and  his  family 
large.  We  went  to  the  boarding  school,  as  we  were 
always  fond  of  Mr.  Hinton.  He  was  a  fine  teacher, 
having  been  educated  at  Oxford,  England,  and  a  fine 
classical  scholar.  He  preached  a  series  of  sermons  on 
the  Prophecies  which  were  well  attended. 

"I  was  baptized  in  the  month  of  February.  The 
day  was  cold.  The  ice  in  the  lake  was  cut  far  enough 
for  the  candidates  to  walk  out  in  to  the  water,  and  we  were 
immersed.  When  we  reached  the  shore  our  clothing 
was  frozen  so  hard  we  could  not  bend  it.  We  were 
wrapped  in  blankets  and  driven  home.  None  of 
the  candidates,  of  whom  there  were  five,  took  cold  or 

27 


felt  any  bad  effects  from  the  exposure.  We  all  felt  that 
we  had  followed  our  dear  Saviour  down  into  the  water 
and  he  would  care  for  us. 

"  Mr.  Hinton  had  a  call  to  New  Orleans  in  1841, 
and  died  while  the  yellow  fever  was  raging  there.  His 
family  he  sent  away,  but  would  not  leave  his  flock,  and 
fell  a  martyr  to  the  people  he  loved. 


•flllinois  anfc  fBMcbtsan  (TanaL 


"  On  the  ninth  of  January,  1836,  an  act  was  passed 
for  the  construction  of  the  Illinois  and  Michigan  Canal. 
There  was  great  rejoicing.  Judge  Theophilus  Smith 
read  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  Dr.  William 
B.  Egan  delivered  an  address.  He  was  a  fine  speaker, 
eloquent,  bright  and  sparkling,  and  always  kept  his 
audience  interested.  He  and  my  father  were  warm 
friends. 

"My  father  and  Dr.  Levi  D.  Boone  took  contracts 
for  construction  on  the  canal.  Together  they  built  a 
double  house.  Father's  family  had  the  west  side  and 
Dr.  Boone' s  family  the  east.  The  location  was  at  what 
is  now  called  Summit.  The  Greenwoods  also  built  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  road,  and  the  ladies  being  con- 
genial, they  were  not  as  lonely  as  they  would  other- 
wise have  been.  The  gentlemen  were  absent  all  day 
at  the  diggings,  which  were  about  three  miles  away. 
Later  on,  my  father  erected  a  larger  house  nearer  the 
works,  as  during  the  summer,  when  we  girls  were  at 
home,  the  first  house  was  too  small.  It  was  not  as 
pleasant  as  the  location  at  Summit,  but  it  was  better 

29 


for  father,  as  he  could  spend  more  time  at  home.  The 
location  was  bad.  The  land  was  low  prairie,  and  in 
the  spring  the  ground  was  covered  with  water.  Father 
bought  us  a  canoe,  and  when  we  came  home  on  Friday 
afternoons  we  used  to  have  great  fun  paddling  over  the 
prairie.  Mother  was  taken  ill  with  the  ague,  and 
father  broke  up  housekeeping  and  came  back  to  the 
city.  He  took  rooms  at  the  United  States  Hotel,  as  our 
house  had  been  rented  and  the  lease  had  not 
expired. 

"The  canal  contract  was  not  a  paying  business  and 
father  sublet  it  and  was  glad  to  get  rid  of  it. 

"  Our  favorite  pastime  while  at  the  Summit  was 
horseback  riding.  The  young  people  would  go  in  par- 
ties and  have  gay  gallops  over  the  prairies.  In  one 
of  our  frolics  I  was  mounted  on  a  horse  I  had  not  rid- 
den before.  Our  horses  were  in  use,  and  the  gentle- 
man I  was  with  had  brought  a  fine  animal  for  me. 
One  of  the  young  ladies  proposed  a  race,  and  everybody 
was  willing.  We  stood  in  a  line,  and  when  the  word  '  Go ' 
was  given,  we  did  go.  My  horse  spurned  the  ground. 
He  fairly  flew  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  and  the  other 
horses  were  excited.  Miss  Greenwood  fell  into  a 
bush  but  was  not  hurt.  I  had  no  time  to  look  back,  as 
I  had  all  I  could  do  to  hold  my  horse.  One  by  one  the 
party  were  left  behind  and  my  horse  slackened  his 

30 


pace.  I  turned  and  went  back.  My  escort  was 
frightened.  He  expected  to  see  me  thrown,  but  I  was 
in  for  it,  and  did  not  fear,  and  carried  off  the  ribbon. 
When  young  I  had  no  fear,  and  rode  any  kind  of  a 
horse.  I  never  was  conquered  by  a  horse  but  once, 
and  that  brute  was  vicious.  After  I  had  mounted,  he 
tried  to  bite  my  foot.  I  rapped  him  on  the  nose  with 
the  whip;  then  he  tried  to  rub  me  off  against  the  trees, 
and  his  last  performance  was  to  sit  down  on  his 
haunches  like  a  dog.  I  was  afraid  after  that  and  dis- 
mounted. I  did  not  want  to  give  in,  but  the  gentle- 
man with  whom  I  was,  said :  '  I  will  not  let  you  go ; 
that  brute  will  kill  you.'  My  father  had  a  fine  span  of 
horses  and  a  span  of  ponies.  I  preferred  the  carriage 
horses.  One  of  them  was  a  fine  saddle  horse  and  I 
spent  many  pleasant  hours  on  his  back.  We  under- 
stood each  other's  moods  and  were  the  best  of  friends. 
I  felt  very  sad  when  he  died. 

"  Captain  Carver,  father's  partner  in  the  canal  con- 
tract, was  a  very  excitable  man  and  could  not  control  the 
men,  as  he  would  get  angry  himself.  My  father 
was  always  cool,  and  would  do  more  by  a  look  from  his 
searching  eyes,  decided  manner  and  quiet  tone  of 
voice  than  the  captain's  stormy  scolding  could  accom- 
plish. One  day  while  we  were  at  luncheon  the  captain 
rushed  into  the  dining  room  crying  out:  '  Get  your  gun, 

31 


Dr.  Temple,  and  come  over  to  the  diggings,  the  men 
are  fighting  like  demons  and  I  can  do  nothing  with 
them ! '  Father  arose  from  the  table,  took  his  hat  arid 
quietly  left  the  house,  the  captain  following  him 
closely,  but  he  did  not  take  his  gun.  He  walked  into* 
the  midst  of  the  fight,  and,  mounting  an  embankment, 
said  in  a  quiet  tone  of  voice  :  '  Now,  boys,  what  is  all 
this  fuss  about  ?  Drop  those  rocks  and  go  to  work !  Are 
you  men  or  demons  ?'  He  stood  looking  at  them  sternly 
but  saying  nothing  more.  One  by  one  the  men  threw 
down  the  stones  and  rocks  in  their  hands,  and  went  to 
work.  The  men  respected  him  and  a  word  was  sufficient. 
"  At  another  time  the  captain  came  in  as  if  he  bad 
wings,  calling  to  father  in  a  frantic  manner :  '  Dr. 
Temple,  the  shanty  is  on  fire,  and  there  is  only  one 
board  between  it  and  a  keg  of  powder  in  the  closet!' 
Father  took  a  heavy  overcoat  from  the  hat-tree,  walked 
rapidly  over  to  the  shanty,  opened  the  closet  door, 
wrapped  the  keg  of  powder  in  the  coat  and  brought  it 
out  in  his  arms  as  calmly  as  if  it  were  a  bunch  of 
roses,  the  men  looking  on  in  amazement." 

#  #  #  #  # 

Here  abruptly  ends  what  Mrs.  Hoyne  had  herself 
written.  We  cannot  complete  the  story  as  she  would 
have  told  it,  but  can  perhaps  briefly  relate  the  main 
features  of  her  subsequent  career. 

32 


It  must  be  remembered  that  when  Mrs.  Hoyne 
arrived  in  Chicago  she  was  but  eight  years  old,  yet 
during  that  brief  period  she  had  passed  from  the 
luxurious  surroundings  of  an  old  plantation  in  the 
slavery  days  of  old  Virginia,  through  the  brilliant 
light  of  Washington  life,  to  the  rude  log  hut  in  the 
frontier  settlement  of  Chicago.  Is  it  strange  that 
these  vivid  scenes  should  have  been  indelibly  stamped 
upon  her  memory  ? 

Strange  and  almost  incredible  as  are  the  incidents 
related,  this  was  but  the  beginning  of  a  life  of  won- 
derful experiences  and  marvelous  changes,  all  of  which 
tended  to  develop  and  strengthen  a  character  naturally 
strong  and  self-reliant.  How  interesting  would  have 
been  her  account  of  her  marriage  and  the  struggles  of 
her  early  married  life!  But  since  we  are  denied  the 
privilege  of  reading  her  own  account,  we  can  but 
recall,  from  the  memory  of  her  friends,  a  brief  recital 
of  some  of  the  prominent  points  in  her  subsequent 
journey. 

As  she  has  said,  the  canal  contract  was  not  a  pay- 
ing business.  How  could  it  have  turned  out  otherwise  ? 
Dr.  Temple  was  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  a  man 
of  wealth,  highly  educated.  Born  and  brought  up  in 
the  aristocratic  atmosphere  of  old  Virginia,  he  carried 
through  life  the  courteous  manners  and  the  dignified 

33 


bearing  of  an  old-time  gentleman.  He  was  educated 
as  a  physician,  and  practiced  his  profession  through- 
out the  greater  part  of  his  life.  He  was  a  scientific 
man,  and  had  the  temperament  of  a  scholar.  He  was 
a  deeply  religious  man  and  an  ardent  Baptist.  While 
attending  the  medical  college  at  Philadelphia  he  was 
naturally  brought  into  friendly  relations  with  Rev. 
Dr.  Staughton,  then  one  of  the  leading  divines  of  the 
Baptist  Church,  and  this  relationship  naturally  led  to 
his  marriage.  He  was  but  nineteen  years  of  age  when 
he  married,  and  his  wife  was  but  sixteen. 

Established  and  situated  as  he  was,  why  did  Dr. 
Temple  abandon  an  atmosphere  which  it  would  seem 
must  have  been  congenial  to  him,  to  seek  the  life  of  a 
pioneer  ?  Mrs.  Hoyne,  in  her  sketch,  makes  one  refer- 
ence to  his  health,  but  does  not  fully  explain  that  the 
cause  of  his  change  of  residence  was  failing  health. 
This  was,  in  fact,  the  turning  point.  His  lungs  were 
weak  and  he  feared  consumption.  He  felt  that  an 
outdoor  life  would  ward  off  the  threatened  disease, 
and  with  this  object  sacrificed  the  comforts  and  pleas- 
ures of  civilized  life  for  the  trials  and  dangers  of  the 
frontier. 

Coming  to  Chicago,  as  must  be  supposed,  with 
some  means,  and  being  a  young  and  active  man,  he 
sought  employment  for  his  money  as  well  as  for  his 

34 


mind,  but  not  being  trained  in  methods  of  business 
nor  experience  in  the  work  he  undertook  to  accomp- 
lish, he  lost  money  instead  of  making  it.  Like  many 
others,  he  became  largely  interested  in  real  estate. 
Then  came  the  panic  of  1837,  when  the  storm  broke 
and  swept  to  destruction  all  business  enterprises. 
Chicago  real  estate  suffered.  It  became  worthless, 
and  if  the  holder  had  bought  on  time  and  was  in  debt, 
bankruptcy  stared  him  in  the  face.  Dr.  Temple  was 
caught  in  this  storm  and  badly  crippled  by  it.  He 
returned  to  the  practice  of  his  profession,  was  com- 
pelled to  curtail  his  expenses  and  struggle  with  a 
limited  income  to  support  and  educate  a  large  and 
growing  family.  In  this  struggle  Leonora  nobly  bore 
her  part.  She  was  the  eldest  child,  and  naturally  it 
fell  to  her  to  share  the  cares  and  burdens  of  the 
family. 

In  184-0,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  Mrs.  Hoyne  married. 
Her  husband,  Thomas  Hoyne,  came  to  Chicago  in 
1837,  with  a  letter  of  introduction  from  Rev.  Archibald 
Maclay,  a  prominent  minister  of  the  Baptist  Church 
in  New  York.  He  was  cordially  received  by  Dr. 
Temple's  family,  and  appreciated  the  welcome  to  this 
happy  home  in  the  wilderness. 

Mr.  Hoyne's  life  in  Chicago  is  too  well  known  to 
need  illustration  here,  except  as  it  may  be  necessary 

35 


in  connection  with  the  subject  of  this  sketch.  He  was 
a  poor  lawyer,  who  had  sought  the  "West  to  work  out 
his  destiny.  Happy  day!  when  he  first  beheld  his 
future  wife.  He  has  often  described  in  his  animated 
manner  this  occasion,  when,  as  he  knocked  at  the 
Temple  mansion,  the  door  was  opened  by  a  fair-haired 
girl,  whose  large  blue  eyes  expressed  surprise  and 
gentle  inquiry  as  to  the  object  of  his  mission.  The 
eyes  evidently  made  a  deep  impression  upon  the  home- 
less youth,  for  he  never  forgot  that  first  look,  and  from 
that  day  seemed  determined  to  make  the  possession  of 
those  deep  blue  eyes  his  own. 

But  romance  and  poetry  will  not  feed  the  hungry 
nor  clothe  the  naked,  and,  though  love  and  poverty 
often  go  together,  love  must  be  strong  indeed  or  pov- 
erty will  drive  it  out.  In  this  case  love  was  strong 
enough  to  fight  the  fight  and  drive  poverty  from  the 
door. 

After  the  wedding  a  bridal  tour  was  proper,  even 
iu  Chicago,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hoyne  took  one.  A 
horse  and  buggy  afforded  ample  means  of  transporta- 
tion and  they  drove  out  to  Major  Mulford's,  on  the 
Ridge  Road,  about  a  half  mile  west  of  where  Calvary 
Cemetery  now  stands.  This  was  a  journey  of  about 
nine  miles,  but  as  it  was  over  a  sandy  road  most  of  the 
way,  it  was  considered  a  long  journey.  Anna  Mulford 


(afterwards  Mrs.  Gibbs)  bad  been  tlie  only  bridesmaid, 
and  it  was,  therefore,  especially  fitting  that  the  new- 
made  husband  and  wife  should  be  received  at  her 
home.  The  welcome  of  Major  Mulford  and  his  lovable 
wife  can  be  imagined  better  than  described  by  any  one 
who  ever  had  the  privilege  of  sharing  their  generous 
old-fashioned  hospitality. 

Major  Mulford  was  a  well  known  figure  to  the  old 
settlers.  Tall,  stately  and  dressed  in  his  old-fashioned 
white  stock,  with  his  smooth-shaven  face,  he  looked 
like  one  of  the  .Revolutionary  fathers.  And  dear  old 
Mrs.  Mulford,  with  her  white  lace  cap  and  her  white  lace 
neckerchief — how  the  children  of  a  later  day  did  love 
to  visit  her,  and  how  well  they  remember  the  motherly 
prodigality  with  which  she  supplied  them  with  red- 
raspberries  and  rich  cream. 

Major  Mulford  was  a  magistrate,  a  Justice  of  the 
Peace,  and  held  court  in  the  old  farm  house,  when 
occasion  required,  which  in  that  community  was  not 
often.  He  must  have  presided  with  great  dignity,  and 
his  dignity  must  have  carried  terror  to  the  hearts  of 
wrongdoers.  In  his  old  age  the  Major  used  to  relate 
with  great  pleasure  the  story  of  a  famous  trial  which 
took  place  before  him,  in  which  Mr.  Hoyue  appeared 
for  the  prisoner.  He  always  insisted  that  this  was 
Mr.  Hoyne's  first  case,  and  he  loved  to  describe,  with 

37 


much  detail,  the  appearance  of  the  distinguished  coun- 
sel, the  fiery  eloquence  of  his  address  to  the  intelligent 
jury  who  sat  around  him  on  the  grass  under  forest 
trees,  and  the  utter  indifference  of  the  barefooted  client 
who  sat  apart  upon  a  rail  fence,  whittling  a  stick.  What 
the  result  of  this  great  trial  was  is  involved  in  mystery; 
for  while  the  scene  itself  was  picturesque,  the  verdict 
of  the  jury  and  the  decision  of  the  court  seem  to  have 
faded  out  of  the  memory  of  the  spectators. 

After  the  wedding,  and  the  famous  wedding  trip, 
the  newly  married  couple  commenced  their  life  in 
earnest.  Mr.  Hoyne  was  young,  active  and  earnest. 
He  had  a  proper  appreciation  of  the  duty  of  a 
husband,  and  had  made  provision  for  his  bride.  They 
commenced  their  housekeeping  in  a  frame  house  on 
Clark  street,  about  half  way  between  Lake  and  Ran- 
dolph streets,  near  Ashland  block,  opposite  the  site  of 
the  Sherman  House.  Mr.  Hoyne  occupied  the  lower 
front  room  as  his  law  office,  the  rest  of  the  house  being 
used  for  the  family.  Rigid  economy  was  necessary. 
The  income  of  Mr.  Hoyne  as  city  clerk  was  four  hun- 
dred dollars  per  annum,  and  this,  with  the  addition  of 
the  fees  received  in  his  practice,  was  the  extent  of  his 
resources;  but  this  seems  to  have  been  sufficient  to 
supply  all  of  the  necessities  of  life.  Luxuries  were  not 
expected  nor  to  be  had. 

38 


Mr.  Hoyne,  with  that  ardent  desire  for  improve- 
ment which  always  possessed  him,  became  a  member 
of  a  debating  society,  which,  for  want  of  more  con- 
venient quarters,  was  accustomed  to  meet  weekly  in 
Mr.  Hoyne's  office.  This  office  was  heated  by  a  wood 
stove,  and  a  smoke  pipe  passed  through  the  room 
immediately  overhead,  thereby,  in  accordance  with  the 
economical  ideas  of  our  ancestors,  utilizing  the  surplus 
heat  to  temper  the  atmosphere  of  the  chamber  above. 
To  avoid  the  danger  of  fire  from  an  over-heated  stove, 
the  floor  was  protected  by  a  tin  drum,  through  which 
the  pipe  passed  from  the  lower  to  the  upper  floor. 
This  drum  was  made  of  two  sheets  of  tin  with  an  air 
space  between,  and  perforated  at  the  upper  and  lower 
ends  to  allow  the  circulation  of  air  through  the  air 
space.  This  was  an  old  and  common  contrivance  then, 
and  is  probably  in  use  now,  though  not  often  seen  in 
city  houses.  In  addition  to  the  advantage  gained  by 
the  transmission  of  heat  to  the  upper  room  by  means 
of  the  stove-pipe,  the  ventilating  holes  also  served  to 
carry  to  the  room  above  the  fumes  of  smoke  and  the 
vitiated  air  of  the  office  below,  and  also  acted  as  a  very 
effective  means  of  communicating  the  sound  of  voices 
from  one  room  to  the  other.  It  was  also  convenient,  in 
case  of  necessity,  to  enable  the  occupant  of  the  upper 
floor  to  view  the  premises  below.  By  lying  upon  the 

39 


floor  and  applying  the  eyes  to  one  of  the  holes,  a  view 
could  be  obtained  of  anything  in  the  direct  line  of 
vision.  This  view  was  necessarily  circumscribed  and 
limited  to  a  small  space,  but  it  afforded  a  view  of  the 
top  of  a  head  or  a  good-sized  spot  on  the  floor. 

Mrs.  Hoyne  was  not  slow  to  discover  the  admirable 
arrangement  thus  prepared  for  her  entertainment.  She 
had,  no  doubt,  often  listened  to  the  thunder  of  debate 
below,  and  been  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  mellifluous  voice 
of  some  silver-tongued  orator  as  it  trickled  through  the 
tin  conveyer.  She  was  young — very  young — and 
naturally  filled  with  pride  at  the  eloquence  of  her  hus- 
band. She  may  have  been  thirsting  for  knowledge, 
and  anxious  to  learn  more  of  Roman  history,  or  to  be 
instructed  in  the  great  questions  of  the  day,  which  were 
being  so  ably  considered  below.  Be  this  as  it  may,  she 
could  not  help  but  hear,  and  not  being  a  selfish  woman, 
she  was  willing  that  some  of  her  dear  friends  should 
hear  also.  Among  the  members  of  this  society  were 
many  of  the  brilliant  young  men  of  the  city — some, 
alas!  still  unmarried.  Mrs.  Hoyne,  therefore  invited 
a  few  of  her  chosen  friends — young  ladies — to  attend 
one  of  these  famous  debates.  With  many  injunctions 
of  secrecy  and  warnings,  the  little  company  above 
assembled,  soon  after  the  dignified  body  below  had 
met. 

40 


The  debate  proceeded  with  spirit ;  one  after  another 
of  the  contending  orators  scattered  eloquence  about 
him,  and  great  streams  of  it  issued  through  the  tin 
drum,  to  the  great  delight  and  entertainment  of  the 
audience  above.  As  the  great  question  under  consid- 
eration was  batted  from  side  to  side,  the  excitement 
increased  both  above  and  below.  The  orators  grew 
warm.  Defiance  was  hurled  at  the  defier  until,  at  last, 
one  of  the  speakers,  overcome  with  enthusiasm,  in  a 
climax  burst  through  the  chains  of  parliamentary  pro- 
priety and  flooded  the  room  with  such  a  Niagara  of 
language  that  the  tin  drum  rattled  in  its  socket,  and 
the  prudence  of  the  young  ladies  was  overcome.  They 
burst  into  a  shout  of  applause  and  laughter. 

The  effect  below  was  sad  and  startling.  All  further 
debate  ceased.  The  meeting  quietly,  and  without  com- 
ment, adjourned.  It  never  met  again  in  the  same  place. 

Mrs.  Hoyne  continued  to  occupy  this  house  for 
about  two  years.  It  was  here  her  first  child,  Tem- 
ple S.  Hoyne,  was  born. 

But  now  came  a  change  to  Galena.  This  city 
seemed  then  in  the  ascendant.  Chicago  was  in  the 
mud,  literally  and  financially.  Galena  was  busy  and 
prosperous.  The  lead  mines  had  attracted  to  it  capital 
and  people.  Mr.  Hoyne  concluded  to  try  his  fortunes 
there.  Dr.  Temple  had  already  moved  to  that  city. 

41 


The  journey  was  not  a  pleasant  one  at  that  time. 
There  was  no  railroad,  but  a  line  of  stage  coaches 
made  the  trip.  In  the  spring  the  first  four  miles  of 
the  journey  was  through  mud  and  water — mostly  water. 
With  a  young  baby  in  her  arms,  this  must  have  been  a 
tiresome  trip  for  the  young  mother,  but  it  was  safely 
accomplished,  and  she  never  complained  of  its  hard- 
ships. 

Life  in  Galena  was  uneventful.  A  mining  com- 
munity has  in  it  many  elements  of  a  rough  and  danger- 
ous character,  but  aside  from  this,  Galena  had  among 
its  citizens  many  men  and  women  of  character  and 
refinement,  and  many  of  Chicago's  prominent  men  sub- 
sequently came  from  Galena. 

After  an  experience  of  two  years  in  Galena,  Mr. 
Hoyne  returned  with  his  family,  now  increased  by  the 
addition  of  another  son,  Thomas  M.,  born  in  Galena, 
to  Chicago.  His  experience  there  had  been  satisfac- 
tory, but  sufficient  to  convince  him  that  Chicago  had 
the  greater  future. 

The  return  trip  was  made  in  winter,  and  with  two 
children  to  care  for ,  was  full  of  trials  and  anxieties  for 
the  mother.  Arriving  at  the  Rock  river,  it  was  found 
that  the  swift  running  stream  with  the  floating  ice 
prevented  the  usual  crossing  by  ferry.  The  only  means 
by  which  a  crossing  could  be  made  was  a  small,  open 

42 


boat,  large  enough  to  hold  but  one  person  in  addition 
to  the  oarsman.  Mrs.  Hoyne  was  urged  to  cross  with 
her  babe,  leaving  her  eldest  child  to  be  brought  over 
afterwards,  but  she  insisted  that  she  would  take  both 
with  her,  for  she  said  it  was  better  for  all  to  go  down 
together  if  any  must  perish.  So,  sitting  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat,  with  her  baby  in  her  arms  and  her  two- 
year-old  child  between  her  knees,  the  perilous  trip  was 
made,  the  boatman  going  down  stream  as  he  crossed 
and  landing  in  safety  far  below  the  point  of  departure. 
Mrs.  Hoyne' s  second  home  in  Chicago  was  on 
Michigan  avenue,  between  Lake  and  Randolph  streets, 
on  the  lot  now  known  as  No.  91  Michigan  avenue. 
Mr.  Hoyne  had  been  able  to  purchase  this  lot  and  to 
erect,  or  move  upon  it,  a  small  two-story  frame  cottage 
with  a  wing  on  the  south  side.  This  lot  Mr.  Hoyne 
still  owned  at  the  time  of  his  death,  in  1883.  This 
was  a  very  desirable  residence  neighborhood.  Mr.  J. 
Y.  Scammon  lived  upon  the  corner  of  Randolph  and 
Michigan  avenue.  Mr.  S.  B.  Cobb  occupied  a  palatial 
residence  with  a  wide  piazza  and  Grecian  columns  done 
in  pine,  on  the  corner  of  Lake  street  and.  Michigan 
avenue.  Orrington  Lunt  was  Mr.  Hoyue's  next  door 
neighbor  on  the  south,  and  in  the  same  block  lived 
Hiram  Wheeler,  Jerome  Beech er  and  other  well  known 
people  whose  names  have  been  now  almost  forgotten. 


Mr.  Scamnion,  then,  as  ever  during  his  life,  loved 
flowers,  and  had  what  seemed  in  that  day  a  magnificent 
garden  on  the  corner.  It  was  well  protected  against 
the  inroads  of  the  bad  boys  of  the  neighborhood  by  a 
high  board  fence,  through  which,  at  regular  intervals, 
there  had  been  mercifully  cut  a  set  of  four  or  five 
openings  about  an  inch  in  width,  like  a  series  of  grid- 
irons, through  which  childish  eyes  might  peer  at  the 
beauty  within,  without  touching  it,  and  dream  of  the 
beauties  of  Paradise. 

In  this  cottage  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hoyne  lived  many 
years.  Here  their  son  James  T.,  and  Leonora  Eliza- 
beth were  born.  It  was  here  they  had  their  greatest 
struggles  in  life,  and  gained  the  battle,  for  it  was 
during  these  years  that  Mr.  Hoyne  grew  in  reputation 
as  a  lawyer  and  garnered  the  fruits  of  his  toil. 

During  these  years  of  toil  Mrs.  Hoyne  was  indeed 
a  helpmeet.  By  her  sunny  disposition  she  made  his 
home  happy.  By  her  cheerful  words  of  encourage- 
ment she  many  a  time  lifted  him  from  his  moods  of 
despondency.  Nor  was  her  help  confined  to  words. 
Her  hands  were  always  willing  and  able  to  work.  By 
her  industry  and  economy  she  prevented  waste  and 
extravagance  in  household  affairs.  She  was  never  idle. 
She  had  a  genius  for  work  and  a  talent  for  everything. 
She  was  a  splendid  housekeeper,  and  when  deprived 

44 


of  competent  help,  which  often  happened,  she  was  able 
to  help  herself,  whether  it  was  to  cook  a  dinner  or  milk 
the  cow.  Her  needle  was  ever  busy.  After  the  cares 
of  the  day  were  over,  and  the  children  sound  asleep, 
she  spent  the  evening  in  repairing  the  rents  of  the  day 
in  the  children's  clothes,  putting  a  patch  upon  the 
boys'  trousers  or  making  a  new  suit  for  one  of  them. 
Tailors  and  seamstresses  were  not  as  conveniently  at 
hand  then  as  now.  The  duties  of  a  wife  covered  a 
broader  field.  She  was  expected  to  be  able  to  make  a 
husband's  shirt  and  knit  his  stockings.  This  Mrs. 
Hoyne  did  for  many  years.  She  kept  her  children 
neat  and  well  clothed,  and  did  it  to  a  great  extent  by 
her  own  labor,  and  even  when  the  necessity  for  so  much 
toil  had  passed,  she  still  loved  to  knit  the  boys'  socks. 
Many  an  evening,  in  the  family  circle,  by  the  light  of 
the  lamp,  have  they  seen  her  fingers  fly  in  and  out 
through  the  yarn,  and  wondered  how  she  could  knit  BO 
f;ist  while  at  the  same  time  she  seemed  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  book  that  lay  open  in  her  lap. 

There  seemed  to  be  nothing  she  could  not  do  that 
was  necessary  to  do.  With  hammer  and  nails,  saw  or 
knife,  she  was  always  ready  for  the  emergency.  There 
was  no  end  to  her  resources.  If  a  stove-pipe,  a  door, 
or  any  of  the  numerous  inconvenient  things  about  a 
house  which  will  get  out  of  order,  had  gone  awry,  she 

45 


knew  at  once  what  the  cause  of  the  trouble  was  and 
how  it  could  be  remedied,  and  she  proceeded  at  once 
to  correct  it  without  waiting  for  assistance.  Mr. 
Hoyne  had  no  mechanical  genius  whatever,  and  was 
helpless  in  any  emergency  that  required  it.  He  would 
laughingly  admit  his  ignorance  and  call  upon  "Nora" 
to  help  him  out  of  the  difficulty.  She  was  delighted 
to  show  her  skill  in  relieving  him. 

If  her  children  wanted  a  new  toy  or  any  sort  of 
implement  or  construction  she  was  the  one  called  upon 
to  devise  ways  and  means,  whether  it  was  to  build  a 
hen-coop  or  manufacture  drop-curtains  and  wardrobes 
for  a  theatrical  performance.  She  never  declared 
anything  impossible. 

In  1853  Mr.  Hoyne  built  a  new  house  at  267 
Michigan  avenue,  and  moved  into  it  as  soon  as  it  was 
completed.  This  was  then  considered  a  very  tine 
structure.  It  was  a  two-story  frame,  and  by  comparison 
with  the  old  building  was  enormous.  Mrs.  Hoyne  at 
first  objected  to  going  so  far  out  of  town,  but  soon 
became  reconciled  to  the  location. 

This  house  stood  upon  the  north  side  of  a  lot 
eighty  feet  in  width  by  one  hundred  and  eighty  in 
depth.  The  surroundings  were  somewhat  rural,  but 
Mr.  Hoyue  was  here  able  to  gratify  his  desire  for  a 
garden  and  some  shrubbery.  The  kitchen  garden 

46 


furnished  a  few  vegetables  in  course  of  the  season, 
which  were  produced  at  an  expense  out  of  all  propor- 
tion to  their  pecuniary  value,  but  the  extreme  satisfac 
tion  of  now  and  then  having  the  products  of  one's  own 
land  upon  the  table  more  than  compensates  for  the 
expense  of  production. 

There  were  some  disadvantages  in  living  so  far  out 
of  town.  There  were  no  street  cars  nor  stage  lines. 
The  only  means  of  getting  down  town  was  the  old- 
fashioned  one  of  walking,  and  it  was  about  a  mile  to 
Lake  street.  There  was  neither  water  nor  gas  in  the 
house.  The  Avater  was  furnished  by  a  water-man,  who 
called  three  times  a  week  and  filled  the  family  water- 
barrel  from  his  cart,  a  large  barrel  on  two  wheels.  He 
obtained  his  supply  from  the  lake  opposite  by  driving 
into  it  and  dipping  up  the  water  with  a  long-handled 
dipper. 

The  city  gas  did  not  for  a  number  of  years  extend 
further  south  than  Adams  street,  and  an  evening  walk 
from  down  town  in  a  dark  night  was,  after  parting  with 
the  last  street  lamp  at  Adams  street,  a  gloomy  and 
unsatisfactory  journey. 

Neighbors  were  few  and  far  between  at  this  time. 
Henry  G.  Hubbard  lived  on  the  corner  of  Hubbard 
court  in  a  little  two-story  brick  house,  and  south  of 
him  was  his  garden,  extending  from  Michigan  over 

47 


to  W abash  avenue.  There  were  no  other  neighbors 
on  the  same  block.  The  place  was  as  quiet  and  retired 
as  though  it  had  been  ten  miles  from  any  city.  There 
was  no  travel  on  the  street,  as  the  roadway  was 
unpaved  and  the  sand  six  inches  deep.  But  with  all 
its  disadvantages  this  was  a  delightful  spot  for  a 
home.  The  broad  expanse  of  Lake  Michigan  lay 
open  to  view,  unobstructed  by  railroad  tracks.  The 
air  was  pure  and  free  from  smoke,  and  the  quiet  of 
country  life  rested  the  weary  brain  and  nerve.  It  was 
in  this  house  that  Frank  G.,  Eugenie  and  Gertrude 
were  born. 

On  this  spot  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hoyne  passed  the 
remainder  of  their  days,  but  not  with  the  same  peace- 
ful surroundings.  As  the  city  grew  its  improvements 
came.  Neighbors  increased,  gas  and  water  were  put 
in,  the  Illinois  Central  crept  along  the  lake  front. 
Michigan  avenue  became  the  fashionable  residence 
street.  The  city  extended  until,  from  being  on  the 
outskirts,  the  old  home  came  to  be  in  the  midst  of  the 
residence  district  of  the  South  Side,  and  as  the  city 
still  pushed  out  and  business  followed  on,  it  was  at  last 
down  town,  so  that  before  Mrs.  Hoyne  died  she  found 
herself  surrounded  by  business,  and  even  seriously 
considered  the  possibility  of  being  compelled  to  aban- 
don the  old  house.  Fortunately  she  was  not  obliged 
to  do  so.  48 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hoyne  celebrated  their  silver  wed- 
ding in  the  year  1865.  All  of  the  old  residents  were 
invited  and  a  large  number  were  present,  among  them 
being: 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jerome  Beecher,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Silas 
B.  Cobb,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hiram  Wheeler,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
D.  B.  Shipman,  Hon.  Jno.  Weutworth,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H. 
O.  Stone,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kimbark,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James 
McKindley,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jno.  B.  Lyon,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Lymau  Blair,  Mr.  arid  Mrs.  Marcus  Stearns,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Silas  Burton,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  P.  F.  W.  Peck,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Surdam,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fred  Wheeler,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  E.  M.  Plielps.  It  is  difficult  thirty-odd  years 
later  to  recall  the  names  of  more  than  the  neighbors. 

At  this  silver  wedding  Hon.  Jno.  Wentworth  called 
the  company  to  order  and  read  from  an  old  paper  the 
notice  of  the  marriage  in  1840. 

In  1869  Mr.  Hoyne  moved  the  frame  house  to  the 
south  side  of  his  lot  and  erected  in  its  place  a  large 
three-story  brick  house.  His  family  was  now  nearly 
grown  and  he  was  able  within  the  new  house  to  furnish 
ample  room  for  those  who  still  remained  at  home,  and 
also  to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a  large  library  room  with  a 
well-filled  library,  a  thing  he  had  long  looked  forward 
to.  This  spacious  room  was  the  feature  of  the  house. 
In  fact,  Mr.  Hoyne's  friends  often  thought  that  he 

49 


built  the  library  and  then  the  house  around  it,  and  he 
was  willing  to  admit  that  it  was  the  room  to  which  he 
gave  most  thought  and  attention  in  his  plan.  It  was 
the  family  room.  Here,  before  the  cheerful  grate  fire 
on  a  winter's  evening,  with  their  sons  and  daughters 
around  them,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hoyne  enjoyed  the  com- 
forts of  life  and  the  fruits  of  their  labor.  During  this 
happy  period  they  seemed  to  appreciate  the  blessings 
which  had  been  showered  upon  them,  and  a  spirit  of 
cheerful  content  seemed  to  reign  over  them,  the 
influence  of  which  was  felt  by  all  who  were  admitted 
to  the  sacred  precincts. 

Thus  briefly  have  we  extended  the  outlines  of  this 
remarkable  life.  It  is  impossible  to  fill  in  the  details, 

but  this  sketch  would  fall  far  short  of  its  purpose  if  it 

• 

failed  to  attempt  some  estimate  of  the  character  of 
Mrs.  Hoyne  in  addition  to  the  glimpses  of  it  afforded 
by  the  few  incidents  related.  Difficult  as  it  is  to  do 
justice  to  the  subject,  let  us  hope  we  may  at  least  suc- 
ceed in  preserving  more  clearly  for  her  children  and 
friends  some  of  the  features  of  that  character  which 
made  her  so  dear  to  them. 

And  first  in  order,  it  is  proper  to  mention  her 
religion.  She  was  a  religious  woman.  Naturally  she 
became  early  in  life  strongly  imbued  with  the  Chris- 
tian faith.  Her  father  was  a  devout  man ;  her  mother 

50 


a  Christian  woman.  As  she  has  said,  she  became  a 
member  of  the  Baptist  church  while  yet  a  child,  and 
she  entered  that  church  in  a  manner  to  impress  upon 
her  youthful  mind  the  awful  solemnity  of  the  vows  she 
was  taking.  She  never  in  her  life  wavered  in  her 
faith  or  faltered  in  her  duty,  although  she  had  more 
than  her  share  of  trials  and  bore  many  burdens  which 
her  faith  cast  upon  her.  Her  firmness  upon  this  sub- 
ject was  like  the  spirit  of  the  martyrs,  and  the  stake 
could  not  have  forced  her  to  retract.  But  yet  with  all 
her  decided  convictions  she  was  not  intolerant.  She 
believed  she  was  right,  but  she  did  not  feel  it  her 
duty  to  force  the  consciences  of  others.  There  was  too 
much  love  in  her  nature  to  permit  sectarian  prejudices 
to  reach  the  low  levgl  of  hate.  The  influence  of  her 
religion  was  shown  all  through  her  life.  She  loved 
her  church,  and  she  showed  her  love  by  her  work  and 
by  the  sacrifices  she  made  for  it.  She  was  faithful  in 
her  attendance,  and  while  her  children  were  young 
insisted  upon  a  strict  observance  of  their  religious 
duties.  In  the  earlier  days  of  her  married  life  she 
was  necessarily  compelled  to  walk  to  church,  but 
this  never  deterred  her,  whether  the  weather  was 
fine  or  stormy.  At  one  time  she  attended  church  on 
the  North  Side  and  always  went  morning  and  evening, 
walking  both  ways,  a  distance  of  nearly  two  miles. 

51 


Her  hand  was  always  ready  to  do  any  work  to  be  done, 
whether  it  was  in  sewing  carpets  for  the  church  or 
making  quilts  for  the  poor.  When  the  old  Chicago 
University  was  young  and  poor — it  was  always  poor, 
however — she  was  one  of  that  noble  company  of  women 
who  undertook  to  furnish  it,  and  they  did  it  not  merely 
by  begging  the  money  for  the  purpose,  but  by  actually 
making  the  carpets  for  its  floors,  and  such  other  fur- 
nishings as  woman's  work  could  provide.  Some  of 
the  alumni  of  the  old  University  will  remember  the 
work  of  these  women  and  the  untiring  energy  they  dis- 
played in  its  prosecution. 

When  it  is  remembered  that  Mrs.  Hoyne  became  a 
wife  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  it  is  remarkable  that  she  was 
so  well  able  to  assume  the  cares  and  responsibilities  of 
a  household.  And  yet  she  was  to  her  husband  alwnys 
the  true,  loving,  helping  wife.  She  always  retained 
his  love  and  respect  and  as  he  grew  older  he  came  to 
rely  more  and  more  on  her  judgment.  She  made  her 
home  bright  and  happy  by  her  cheerful  disposition; 
she  smoothed  away  the  care  from  his  brow,  by  remov- 
ing obstacles  which  seemed  insurmountable;  she  sur- 
rounded herself  and  him  with  friends,  and  drew  to  her 
social  circle  what  was  best  and  most  elevating;  she 
sympathized  with  him  in  his  defeats  and  rejoiced  with 
him  in  his  triumphs;  she  let  him  see  with  her  eyes,  and 

52 


thus  often  cleared  away  the  clouds  which  confounded 
friend  with  enemy.  He  was  highly  sensitive,  and  thus 
sometimes  led  to  construe  as  an  offense  what  was  not  so 
intended.  She  was  calm,  self-possessed  and  able  to 
influence  his  better  judgment,  remove  doubt  and 
restore  amity.  He  often  gave  her  credit  for  being  a 
better  judge  of  human  nature  than  he,  and  was  ever 
ready  to  listen  to  her  opinion  as  to  the  motives  of  men, 
Mr.  Hoyne  felt,  and  often  expressed  his  feeling,  that 
his  success  in  life  was  largely  due  to  his  wife. 

As  a  mother,  Mrs.  Hoyne  was  all  that  woman  could 
be.  Her  life  was  a  life  of  sacrifices  for  her  children. 
No  self-denial,  no  toil  or  trouble  was  too  much.  Her 
love  was  equal  to  any  emergency.  She  clung  to  her 
children  with  this  same  love  and  self-sacrifice  to  the 
day  of  her  death;  to  please  this  one,  to  remove  any 
little  annoyance  for  that  one,  to  smooth  out  any  friction 
or  misunderstanding  that  might  have  arisen,  was  her 
constant  thought  and  care,  and  her  chief  desire  was 
that  her  children  should  continue  to  be  her  children 
even  after  they  had  passed  the  period  of  childhood,  and 
though  they  had  married  and  introduced  new  members 
into  the  family  circle,  she  yet  sought  to  hold  the 
old  ties  firm  as  ever.  To  do  this  in  any  family 
requires  great  tact  and  great  love.  That  she 
was  able  to  accomplish  it  is  sufficient  evidence 

58 


of  her  wonderful  power.  She  always  kept  her- 
self in  touch  with  her  children.  She  was  one  of 
them.  She  entered  with  enthusiasm  into  all  their  plans 
for  pleasure,  and  was  active  in  devising  amusements  for 
them.  She  enjoyed  their  entertainments  as  well  as 
they,  and  seemed  as  young  and  happy  as  any  one  of 
them.  It  was  for  this  reason  that  her  children  always 
felt  so  attached  to  their  home.  It  was  the  center  of 
their  happiness,  and  during  their  youth,  their  friends 
were  always  ready  to  attend  any  entertainment  that 
Mrs.  Hoyne  gave  and  were  anxious  to  have  her  join 
their  youthful  parties.  She  never  frowned  upon  youth- 
ful pleasure  but  encouraged  every  innocent  amusement 
which  could  make  home  pleasant  and  attractive. 

How  many  of  the  old  friends  will  remember  the 
dances  in  the  carriage  house  back  of  the  house,  the 
bare  walls  of  which  had  been  decorated  by  Mrs.  Hoyne 
with  old  shawls,  blankets  and  other  spare  wearing 
apparel,  and  where,  in  the  cold  winter  nights,  the 
great  coal  stove  was  barely  sufficient  to  take  the  chill 
out  of  the  frosty  air,  but  it  was  warm  enough  for  the 
youthful  dancers,  and  to  the  music  of  three  pieces,  they 
had  more  real  pleasure  than  the  gorgeous  ball-room 
and  a  grand  orchestra  could  afford.  In  all  this  Mrs. 
Hoyne  showed  her  worldly  wisdom;  for  she  recognized 
the  fact  that  the  young  must  be  entertained,  and 

54 


that  if  they  do  not  find  their  pleasures  at  home  they 
will  seek  them  elsewhere.  Thus  did  Mrs.  Hoyne 
retain  her  place  as  the  central  figure  in  the  family 
circle,  and  up  to  the  day  of  her  death  she  was  not  for- 
gotten in  any  family  party.  She  was  always  entertain- 
ing and  agreeable,  and  by  her  presence  added  to  the 
pleasure  of  any  assembly. 

Mrs.  Hoyne  was  one  of  the  most  industrious  and 
capable  of  women.  Her  fingers  were  ever  busy,  and 
she  could  accomplish  wonders  with  her  needle.  When 
it  was  necessary,  she  disposed  of  that  drudgery — the 
family  mending — with  regularity  and  without  worry, 
and  besides,  had  time  for  fancy  work,  which  she  always 
had  on  hand.  She  ever  had  time  to  attempt  other 
tasks  that  to  most  women  seemed  appalling.  She  re- 
ceived a  prize  from  the  Mechanics'  Fair  held  in  1856 
for  the  best  knit  bed-quilt,  and  in  later  years  made 
several  silk  bed-quilts  for  her  children. 

In  household  affairs  she  was  indefatigable.  She 
knew  every  detail  of  her  housework.  She  had  practi- 
cal experience  of  it  all,  from  the  kitchen  up.  She 
could  cook,  if  need  be,  anything  required,  and  her 
"cookies,"  the  boys  thought,  were  the  best  ever  made. 

But  with  all  these  accomplishments  of  the  home 
which  her  children  so  love  to  remember  and  talk  of, 
she  had  still  time  for  thought  and  work  in  the  broader 

55 


field  of  life.  Her  heart  was  full  of  charity  for  suffer- 
ing humanity,  and  where  her  heart  went  her  willing 
hand  followed.  Blessed  be  her  memory!  a  memory 
so  fragrant  with  the  simplicity  of  her  character,  the 
sweetness  of  her  manner,  the  gentle  touch  of  her  lov- 
ing hand,  that  time  can  never  efface  it  from  the  hearts 
of  her  children  and  friends. 

In  the  year  1S58  she  wrote  for  a  literary  society 
(The  Weekly  Visitor  Association,  of  which  her  chil- 
dren were  members,)  a  novel  entitled  "The  Old 
Plantation,  or  Life  in  Virginia,"  under  the  nom  de 
plume  Nellie  Bly.  This  novel  the  following  year  was 
printed  by  her  son  Temple,  and  bound  by  Culver, 
Page  &  Hoyne,  with  which  firm  Frank  commenced  his 
business  career  in  1872. 

Her  love  for  Chicago,  even  up  to  the  time  of  her 
death,  was  almost  as  great  as  her  love  for  her  family. 
She  was  never  happy  when  away  from  her  home. 

A  large  share  of  her  love  was  also  given  to  her 
church,  of  which  she  was  a  constant  attendant,  and  for 
many  years,  when  time  permitted,  she  was  a  member 
of  the  church  choir. 

Mrs.  Hoyne  died  November  15th,  1893,  in  the  sixty- 
eighth  year  of  her  life.  She  had  been. ill  for  about 
two  weeks,  suffering  from  an  attack  of  bronchitis,  but 
no  serious  consequence  was  at  first  apprehended.  Her 

56 


throat  had  been  sensitive  for  years,  and  every  fall  and 
winter  she  had  suffered  from  similar  attacks,  which 
readily  yielded  to  treatment.  She  had  been  so  well 
and  seemed  so  strong  that  it  did  not  seem  possible 
that  she  should  not  be  able  to  overcome  this  attack. 
During  the  summer  she  had  been  a  frequent  visitor  to 
the  World's  Fair,  and  had  shown  the  same  lively  inter- 
est in  this  wonderful  exhibit  that  she  always  took  in  all 
that  concerned  Chicago.  She  had  been  able  to  endure 
the  fatiguing  walks  about  the  grounds,  spending  many 
a  long  day  there.  She  attended  on  October  9th,  "Chi- 
cago Day,"  and  mingled  with  the  enormous  crowd  that 
filled  the  grounds  and  buildings  on  that  occasion.  She 
went  frequently  in  the  evening,  and  later  in  October, 
when  the  weather  had  become  cooler,  she  spent  a  day 
there  and  remained  until  evening.  While  she  did  not 
realize  it,  she  may,  perhaps,  by  these  frequent  visits 
have  overtaxed  her  strength,  and  during  her  last  visit 
she  caught  cold,  which  resulted  in  her  illness.  She 
was  exhausted  by  a  cough  which  prevented  her  sleep- 
ing at  night,  and  gradually  lost  strength,  until  it  be- 
came apparent  she  could  not  recover.  She  seemed  to 
realize  this  as  soon  as  anyone,  and  finally  inquired  of 
her  son,  Dr.  Hoyne,  whether  she  was  going  to  die. 
And  when  he,  as  gently  as  was  possible,  expressed  to 
her  the  hope  that  she  might  yet  rally,  but  at  the  same 

57 


time  the  uncertainty  of  life,  she  understood  him.  She 
showed  no  fear  or  uneasiness.  She  met  death  as  she 
had  met  all  the  trials  and  responsibilities  of  life — 
calmly,  courageously.  Some  things  she  wished  to  do 
before  she  died,  and  she  set  about  them  at  once.  She 
called  for  her  son  Thomas,  and  dictated  to  him  her 
will,  requesting  him  to  prepare  it  in  legal  form  and 
bring  it  to  her  for  execution  as  soon  as  completed.  At 
one  o'clock  she  called  for  her  lunch,  and  seemed  deter- 
mined to  keep  her  strength  until  her  work  was  finished. 
After  she  had  eaten,  she  was  able  to  sit  up  in  her  bed. 
The  paper  was  read  to  her  and  approved  by  her.  She 
signed  it  with  a  firm  hand,  and  when  it  was  finished 
her  mind  seemed  relieved  from  all  care.  Within  an 
hour  after  this  she  died,  calmly  and  peacefully,  sur- 
rounded by  her  children,  and  without  pain  or  suffering. 
And  so  ended  this  beautiful,  useful,  faithful  life. 
The  end  was  as  she  would  have  had  it.  It  came  to  her 
in  the  possession  of  all  her  faculties  ;  in  her  old  home 
surrounded  by  those  most  dear  to  her,  and  with  suffi- 
cient warning  of  its  approach  to  enable  her  to  prepare 
to  meet  it,  yet  without  a  long  and  painful  illness.  Her 
strength  had  been  such  that  her  happy  activity  had 
continued  almost  to  the  very  end.  She  had  lived  to 
see  her  children  married  and  settled  in  life,  all  living 
happily  about  her,  with  one  exception.  Her  daughter 

58 


Eugenie  died  in  1889,  and  her  death  had  been  a  great 
sorrow,  but  her  infant  son  Eugene  had  been  the  con- 
stant care  of  Mrs.  Hoyne  since  her  daughter's  death, 
and  the  sorrow  for  the  lost  one  found  relief  in  the  love 
she  poured  out  upon  the  little  boy. 

Few  lives  exhibit  so  many  marked  contrasts,  and  it 
is  given  to  few  men  or  women  to  witness  in  a  lifetime 
so  marvelous  a  transformation  of  a  wilderness,  inhab- 
ited by  savages,  to  a  metropolitan  city,  which,  in  the 
year  of  her  death,  became  the  center  of  attraction  of 
the  civilized  world,  and  through  all  the  rapid  changes 
which  wrought  this  marvelous  result,  she  lived  a  con- 
tented life,  satisfied  with  her  lot  in  life  and  not  unset- 
tled by  her  prosperity.  Faithful  in  the  discharge  of 
every  duty,  loved  by  all  who  knew  her,  and  loving  all 
about  her.  She  might  well  love  life,  for  during  it 
she  had  received  the  rewards  of  her  faithfulness.  She 
did  love  life;  she  enjoyed  it  to  its  fullest  extent.  If 
she  could  have  chosen  she  would  undoubtedly  have 
preferred  to  continue  yet  longer  in  the  world  which 
surrounded  her,  but  since  this  blessing  could  not,  in 
the  Divine  wisdom,  be  longer  continued  to  her  chil- 
dren, they  can  rest  content  in  the  happy  reflection  that 
she  was  reconciled  to  the  will  of  God,  and  went  from 
earth  to  the  greater  rewards  which  her  well-spent  life 
had  earned  for  her. 

59 


.  ant)  flDrs,  1bo\me'0  Children* 


Temple  Staughton  Hoyne  was  born  in  the  Glark 
street  home;  married  to  Francis  H.  Vedder,  of  New 
York  State,  Oct.  17,  1866.  They  have  one  daughter, 
Maud,  married  to  Charles  Clinton  Buell,  Oct.  23, 1893. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Buell  have  one  son, 

Temple  Hoyne  Buell,  born  Sept.  9,  1895. 


61 


Thomas  Maclay  Hoyne  was  born  in  Galena,  111., 
and  married  Jeanie  Thomas  Maclay,  of  New  York, 
Jan.  *25,  1871.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hoyne' s  children  are: 

Maclay  Hoyne, 
Thomas  T.  Hoyne, 
Archibald  L.  Hoyne, 
Susan  D.  Hoyne, 
Eugene  Hoyne, 
Mary  Lawrence  Hoyne. 


James  Taylor  Hoyne  was  born  in  Chicago  in  the 
house  which  stood  on  the  site  now  known  as  No.  91 
Michigan  avenue.  He  was  educated  in  the  public  schools 
of  Chicago.  Preferring  mercantile  life  to  a  profession, 
he,  while  yet  under  age,  entered  the  wholesale  grocery 
house  of  Pollard,  Doane  &  Co.,  and  continued  in  their 
employ  for  five  years. 

Upon  the  organization  of  the  German  Savings 
Bank  of  Chicago  he  entered  that  institution  as  a  teller, 
and  was  subsequently  promoted  to  the  office  of  assistant 
cashier  which  latter  position  he  continued  to  occupy 
until  the  failure  of  the  bank  in  1877.  He  assisted  in 
winding  up  the  affairs  of  the  bank,  and  then  engaged 
in  the  real  estate  business  in  which  he  continued  until 
his  death. 

In  1874  he  married  Emma  J.  Bangs  a  daughter  of 
the  late  Nathan  Bangs,  Jr.,  of  New  York.  James  T. 
Hoyne  died  May  18,  1895. 


63 


Lizzie  Hoyne  Williams  was  born  at  No.  91  Michi- 
gan avenue;  married  April  30,  1879,  to  Clifford  Will- 
iams, of  Chicago.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams  have  had 
three  children: 

Clifford  Hoyne  Williams, 

Ernest  Williams,  (died  in  infancy) 

Temple  Williams. 


64 


Mary  Ellen  Hoyne  was  born  at  No.  267  Michigan 
avenue  in  1853  and  died  in  a  few  days. 


65 


Frank  Gilbert  Hoyne  was  born  at  No.  267  Michi- 
gan avenue;  married  Florence  A.  Ashton,  of  Chicago, 
April  24,  1884.  They  have  two  children : 

Leonora  Hoyne, 
Helen  Hoyne. 


66 


Eugenie  A.  de  Bronkart,  the  third  daughter  of  Mrs. 
Hoyne,  was  born  in  Chicago  at  267  Michigan  avenue. 
She  attended  Dearborn  Seminary  and  graduated  from 
that  institution. 

In  1887  she  was  married  to  Gustave  C.  de  Bronkart 
of  Denver,  a  prominent  real  estate  dealer  in  that  city. 
She  resided  in  that  city  and  her  married  life  though 
short  was  one  of  remarkable  happiness.  On  the  27th 
day  of  December,  1889,  her  son  Eugene  was  born,  and 
on  the  7th  day  of  January,  1889,  she  died  leaving  her 
bereaved  husband  and  infant  child. 

Mr.  de  Bronkart  was  taken  ill  in  the  summer  of  1893 
and  his  affection  proved  to  be  chronic  Bright's  disease. 
Mrs.  Hoyne  during  her  lifetime  and  especially  during 
her  last  illness  was  much  distressed  by  Mr.  de  Bronk- 
art's  illness,  and  upon  her  death,  he  in  turn  seemed 
to  be  greatly  affected.  In  the  summer  of  1894  he 
came  to  Chicago  and  at  the  residence  of  Mr.  James  T. 
Hoyne,  received  the  careful  nursing  of  Mrs.  Hoyne. 
He  continued  to  suffer  until  September,  when  he  died. 
Eugene,  after  the  death  of  his  mother,  had  been  in  care 
of  his  grandmother,  who  found  relief  for  her  sorrow 
at  the  loss  of  her  daughter  in  the  love  which  she 
bestowed  upon  little  Eugene.  Upon  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Hoyne,  Eugene  was  sent  to  comfort  his  father,  who 
seemed  to  find  great  pleasure  in  his  company.  Upon 

67 


the  death  of  his  father,  Eugene  went  to  reside  with 
James  T.  Hoyne  and  his  wife.  Notwithstanding  the 
repeated  afflictions  of  the  little  fellow,  nature's  remedy 
has  kept  him  still  bright  and  happy,  though  his  sur- 
roundings have  perhaps  made  him  more  thoughtful 
than  usual  for  one  of  his  age. 


68 


Effie  Gertrude  Wells,  the  third  daughter,  was  born 
at  No.  2(57  Michigan  avenue;  married  Samuel  E. 
Wells,  of  Chicago,  March  20,  1888.  They  have  one 
son: 

Hoyne  Wells. 


69 


- 


DATE  DUE 


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